


im not in love

by gooeycocoa



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Coming Out, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Possibly Unrequited Love, Triggers, check warnings in notes!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooeycocoa/pseuds/gooeycocoa
Summary: He sighs, staring down at Corpse who is still moving in his sleep, mumbling incoherently as the last of his tears slip down his cheeks.Why is he letting Corpse sob into his shirt like Sykkuno means anything to him?Because Corpse is drunk.
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 120
Kudos: 936





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> vomiting this out while watching streemz
> 
> good thing this is fiction coz a lot of drinking fucks u up if u have gerd!! i had to deal with bad acid reflux because of my eating disorder its not fun
> 
> if u see any typos, no u didnt
> 
> title from "I'm Not in Love" by 10cc

“I heard you weren’t feeling well.” Sykkuno looks up at Corpse, who’s three steps taller than him, looking like shit. He’s in his pajamas, nothing out of the ordinary for 11 pm on a Saturday, but his face is a bit…

_ Anyways. _

Sykkuno waits for an invitation. He’d driven for a while to get to his place, and in the dark too. He hopes that he’ll be allowed in for a few minutes at least.

“Hi. Sykkuno.” his words come slow, his smile is lopsided. Sykkuno returns the smile awkwardly. Corpse turns around without saying anything, leaving the door open for Sykkuno to enter behind him.

Sykkuno makes his way into the apartment and takes off his coat with a shiver. They’ve met in person a few times prior, maskless and all, and Sykkuno needs to remind himself of this every time for the sake of his own nerves.

“I picked up some soup.” He plops down a bag with a plastic container of soup and a plastic spoon onto the kitchen table. He sets down the medicine he grabbed from his cabinet before leaving as well. “I always take this when I’m sick.” 

He looks up at Corpse who’s still… standing there.

“We missed you today. Jack wouldn’t stop talking about you.” he tries to laugh.

Corpse keeps staring at him. His are cheeks flushed pink, and he’s very much out of it. His sleeves are visibly dirtied with something, and his hair is a mess. His eyes stand out the most. Glassy and red. 

Sykkuno steps closer, examining his puffy face. The dark around his eyes isn’t from a lack of sleep. It’s much too pigmented, streaky, and it can be seen faintly on his cheeks. He brings a hand up to Corpse’s face, surprised when he leans into his touch, and even more so when his hand comes back stained black.

It’s makeup. Eyeliner and mascara to be exact. And he’s been crying.

Corpse huffs out a breath. Sykkuno has to stop himself from cringing at the scent of alcohol. He steps back, turning to peel the soup out of its wet plastic bag. Some of the condensation drips onto the floor and he reaches for the paper towels by the sink.

He pauses, noticing something at the corner of his eye just as Corpse slides into a chair.

“You've been drinking,” Sykkuno says matter-of-factly. He picks up the almost empty wine bottle from the sink and shows it to Corpse.

“I dumped that one down the sink.” he shifts his weight forward, supporting the weight of his head with both his arms.

“And this one?” Sykkuno stares at the trash can beside him. A second wine bottle. Completely empty.

Corpse shrugs his shoulders and rests his head on the cool marble surface. His soup is getting colder by the second. 

“What happened, Corpse?” he sighs, walking over to his side and laying a hand on his back.

“Nothing. Nothing happened.” his voice sounds worn and tired. Annoyed, even.

“Why were you crying?” Sykkuno presses even further. Corpse doesn’t move.

“What’s with the wine? Are you even sick?”

“Just shut up!” he groans into his sleeve and rubs at his dark eyes again.

Sykkuno’s never heard Corpse raise his voice at anyone. He always had a collected personality and stayed uncharacteristically quiet whenever he was bothered. This much alcohol in his system is messing with him and Sykkuno tries not to be offended.

“This isn't… This isn't like you.” He reasons with himself aloud.

“You don't know me. Stop acting like you do.” He reaches for the bottle in Sykkuno’s hand, who jerks it away. Corpse follows, tripping out of his chair in order to reach it.

“You've had enough.” 

Corpse lunges at him, hands grasping for the neck of the bottle.

“Give it back!” he knocks it out of Sykkuno’s hands and sends it crashing to the floor between them. Glass shards put even more distance between the two. Red liquid splatters across both of their feet, making the place look like a crime scene.

“Just tell me what’s wrong. Please.” Sykkuno knows he’s being too harsh on him, asking for too much. “Look at yourself.” he gestures to Corpse’s state.

“I don't care.” Corpse breaks down into a sob, standing there with his whole body trembling. Sykkuno steps around the mess as best he can, praying that his feet don’t get cut up.

Corpse collapses into Sykkuno’s arms, enveloping him with his whole body. Sykkuno shushes him gently, letting him melt away in his arms until their legs grow weak and Corpse can’t keep his eyes open.

-

The two end up in Corpse’s bed, curled up awkwardly in each other’s arms. Sykkuno’s legs feel uncomfortable in his jeans. Corpse’s pillowcases are stained black.

“It’s this guy... I’ve been talking to him for a few months now…” Corpse sniffs. His voice is raspier than usual.

A realization rushes over Sykkuno and then subsides, sweat spikes his palms. He ignores Corpse’s impromptu coming out and decides to let him talk.

The two finally decided to go out to a bar, according to Corpse, and something went wrong.

“He hurt you?” Sykkuno asks, bracing himself for his answer.

“No. He just didn’t want me…” Corpse’s voice cracks and Sykkuno can feel his heart do the same. 

“I mean, who would?” Corpse laughs dejectedly. Sykkuno sucks his teeth.

“Don’t say that, Corpse.” Sykkuno feels physically pained over the way he talks about himself. “There are people out there just waiting to meet you.” He combs through Corpse's hair with his fingers, massaging his scalp lightly.

“Stop trying to make me feel better. Stop lying to me.” 

“You’re beautiful, Corpse. I would never lie to you like that.”

Corpse looks up at him with those glossy eyes. A look of disbelief, panic, and confusion all at once. The pout that’s been plastered on his face since they met that night is still there. His lips look soft and extremely… kissable.

“You think so?” he whispers, leaning in too close now.

Sykkuno brings his hand to Corpse’s nape. Pressing down gently until his face is nestled in the crook of his neck. He tries to relax his body, but the tension won't leave.

_ Why doesn’t he kiss him right there? _

_ Because Corpse is drunk. _

His lips meet Sykkuno’s collar bones instead. They don’t move, they don’t do anything. The warm breath against his skin sends goosebumps running down his body. Corpse’s hands grip into his shirt and pull him even closer.

_ Why doesn’t he confess his feelings? _

_ Because Corpse is drunk. _

Corpse moans, curling in on himself even tighter. Dark tears run down his cheeks and land on Sykkuno’s neck.

“I know you don’t want me either,” he mumbles sleepily. Sykkuno chooses to ignore this as well.

Corpse’s breathing evens out, and Sykkuno takes the time to reposition their bodies. He covers both of them with the thin blanket at the foot of the bed and lies back down beside him

He sighs, staring down at Corpse who is still moving in his sleep, mumbling incoherently as the last of his tears slip down his cheeks.

_ Why is he letting Corpse sob into his shirt like Sykkuno means anything to him? _

_ Because Corpse is drunk. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helo, this chapters kinda slow n nothing happens but pls stay tuned for more

Sunlight pours into the room and Corpse squints. He shivers under the blanket even though there’s an uncomfortable amount of heat radiating from every direction. He has no clue where he is.

He opens his eyes despite the pounding in his head and comes face to face with Sykkuno. He holds back a scream, suddenly aware of the way Sykkuno’s arms are trapping him close. Sykkuno’s hands are cradling the back of his head, softly. He tries to ignore the way Sykkuno’s legs are wrapped around his lower half. The tangled mess of limbs has Sykkuno awkwardly pressing his crotch into Corpse's hip.

Hickeys? No. 

Clothes? Still on. 

It’s? Too hot in this room.

He detangles himself from the older man, making sure his limp arms are tucked nicely under the blanket they shared. Sykkuno stirs in his sleep, nose twitching and arms reaching back out for the warmth that just left his side.

Corpse swings his feet off the bed, feeling the cold floor under him. The world tilts sideways as he stands, drowning his thoughts out.

They come flooding back when he stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. Raccoon-like eyes stare back at him. Make-up remover exposes the eye bags underneath. His face isn’t something he’s proud of, but it’s reserved for those he trusts the most. 

Like Sykkuno, whose hands twitched the day Corpse took off his mask in front of him. Almost like he wanted to reach out and grab his face, make sure it was really there.

Like Mateo, who Corpse thought would react similarly. Except, he cringed at the sight of it. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Corpse’s crooked nose and at the sight of the faint scar that ran from his cheek to the corner of his lips. Corpse felt as if he was holding back laughter.

He wonders how a childhood accident could affect his love life in such a way. But Corpse isn’t stupid. To Mateo, he wasn’t anything more than a voice until they met in person. Nothing more than a voice with a pair of eyes during their dates. And nothing more than a voice with a pitiful face after last night.

He could tell that Mateo didn’t want to see him again after that. He wasn’t entirely a dick about it. He’d promised to keep Corpse’s appearance a secret for the sake of his faceless status, and so far, he’s kept that promise.

He rises his mouth in the sink, grossed out at the thought of going to bed without having gone through his nightly routine, and stares at himself once again.

He traces the tissue on his left cheek, feeling where the growth of facial hair stops on the pink skin.

He leans in closer, pressing a nail into it, wondering if it was possible to reopen it. He scratches it, pinches it, rubs it, wondering if it would bleed like his fresh ones. 

He stops when his breath fogs up the mirror.

In the kitchen, there’s never really much to eat for breakfast. Nothing seems appetizing. He decides to sit down.

His phone buzzes in his hoodie pocket. He unlocks it.

**Grid:** can we meet up?

He wants to say no. He really does not want to be reminded of last night, or the past few months. He rests his head on the table, 

**Corpse** : sure

  
  


Sykkuno walks in on Corpse sitting at his kitchen table eating dry cereal out of the box. It’s the only thing he can stomach in the mornings. Coffee makes him jittery.

“I don’t remember much about last night, but I’m sorry.” Corpse buries his head into his phone, scrolling through his Twitter feed but not reading anything.

The ache in his head doesn’t cloud enough of the memories.

“No, don’t apologize.”

He must’ve said something for them to be cuddled up like that, and whatever it was, it must’ve been too much. Sykkuno forces a smile. 

“So… how’d you sleep?”

Something is off about the way Sykkuno hesitates on his words. Walking on eggshells as if his words could break Corpse. He looks up at him in confusion.

_ Since when did Sykkuno start looking at him like that? _

“Grid… they’re not that important to me.” Not anymore, Corpse wants to say. He’s lucky that usernames make it easier to talk about his boy problems.

“So that’s his name? His nickname?”

Corpse jerks his head up, panicked. He scans Sykkuno for some kind of answer. Maybe he’s just assuming, or thinking about somebody else. 

“You talk a lot when you’re drunk, aha…” Sykkuno sits down across from him. “I was surprised too. I’m sorry if you didn’t mean to tell me.”

Corpse looks for some sign that Sykkuno won’t turn his back at him the way everyone else did. He doesn’t know what he would do without him in his life, but it isn’t like he hasn’t gone through this before.

Tears blur his vision like they always do when he’s scared. He can’t get any visual cues from Sykkuno because he can’t fucking see. He wants to get angry, feel the heat in his chest consume his entire body as he builds up another wall to protect himself.

He remembers the judgemental faces staring down at him when he wanted to experiment with makeup. When he wanted to express himself with nail polish. When he stared at his older schoolboys for a little too long.

How no one would give him a chance to-

“Hey, hey… It’s alright.”

Sykkuno is at Corpse’s side, the comforting touch of his hand is unmistakable. He whispers some things about always being his friend, how everyone else would accept him when he was ready. The words should mean something to Corpse, he knows this. But the words don’t change a thing. Too many years of questioning himself, too many years of being scared. He just wants to hide it all away.

Corpse has his forehead pressed into the table, phone still unlocked. It buzzes.

**Grid** : thank you. see you later then

He knows Sykkuno can see their messages. Thinking he’s pathetic probably, going back to the guy who almost made Corpse give himself alcohol poisoning.

He can feel the way his fingers stiffen, pausing their gentle strokes. They continue. They’re not the same anymore.

The first thing Sykkuno did when he got home was crawl back into bed. The previous night was one of those nights. The kinds where you’re unconscious to the world, but not really a _ sleep.  _ Where so many thoughts are begging to be processed that you might as well be wide awake.

Even in the familiarity of his own bedsheets, he can’t seem to get rid of the thoughts bouncing around his head. The thought of this “Grid” and what he could’ve done to Corpse to make him feel so terrible. He thinks about the notification Corpse received. For what reason would Corpse go back to someone like that?

Sykkuno thinks about the two making up, clearing up a misunderstanding, or an apology that would mend their wounded relationship.

He imagines Corpse happy with Grid, finally finding the love that he claims to despise in his music. They would hold each other, care for each other, be there for each other.

Maybe he’d get invited to their games. Their viewership numbers would rise with people who would go nuts to hear the voice of the man who captured Corpse’s heart. Their friends would barrage them with questions, interrogate Grid to make sure he’s treating their friend right.

Sykkuno doesn’t realize he’s grinding his teeth or gripping the bed sheets with white knuckles. He doesn’t notice the blood rushing to his face or the hollow pit in his stomach.

Anger is a rare emotion for Sykkuno. Jealousy, even rarer.

He swallows it down.

He rolls around in his bed, trying to exhaust himself into sleep. His phone is knocked off of his bed and he picks it up. He has unread messages.

**Corpse** : can i ask you for a favor?

**Corpse** : you can say no but um

**Corpse** : can you come with me to go meet with Mateo. i think i need to break it off with him in person

**Corpse** : it’ll be at night and i dont want to go alone

He tries to hide the relief that washes over him. He hates himself for it.

**Sykkuno** : of course! what time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> proofreading is for those who have standards. 
> 
> KKUNO IS JEALOUS !!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a bit on the shorter side! just the duo going to mateo's place!
> 
> mery Christmas +1 day to everyone who celebrates i hope everyone's staying safe

When Corpse said “at night”, Sykkuno thought he meant after sundown. He didn’t expect to be driving down a highway with Corpse to this guy’s house at a little past midnight, still tired out of his mind.

The car radio plays the same overplayed shit, and Sykkuno can’t seem to focus on anything other than the man next to him. 

“Are you… okay with this?” Sykkuno asks. He knows it’s none of his business and doesn’t speak up again when Corpse doesn’t answer him. He picks at the skin around his nails, a bad habit he picked up over the years.

He doesn’t want Corpse to get hurt. To lie and say he’s just feeling sick when they invite him to stream. To isolate himself for days on end.

He doesn’t want to find Corpse drinking himself to death again.

Corpse pulls into the driveway and sends a quick text to Mateo. His hands have been trembling since Sykkuno entered the car, and he struggles to type out his sentence.

He promised Sykkuno he wouldn’t take long, that he would’t even step inside of his apartment. It would just be a quick chat to break off whatever was left of their relationship.

Corpse shuts the car door behind him after shutting the car off.

Sykkuno’s left in the darkness as the car’s lights dim out, left alone with his own thoughts as Corpse walks up the few steps to the door and rings the doorbell. 

The door swings open.

They talk for a long while, probably about their date. He doesn’t have to see Corpse’s entire face to tell that he’s distressed. His shoulders are stiff, and his hands won’t leave the rings on his fingers alone. 

Mateo stands in front of Corpse, Sykkuno can see his face in the moonlight. Round eyes, round nose, round eyes. He’s just as tall as Corpse, maybe a bit thinner. His black hair is tied back in a simple bun. 

_ Painfully average _ . Sykkuno thinks as he gnaws on his lip. There’s something about the way Corpse is able to take off his mask so easily in front of Mateo. It makes his blood boil.

Mateo steps out of the doorway, toe to toe with Corpse. Sykkuno freezes.

Mateo raises his hands to Corpse’s face, holding his head gently in between them. He feels the warmth radiating off of Mateo’s skin. He feels the roughness of his fingertips from the years he’s spent playing guitar, and Mateo wipes away the tears that have started to run down his cheeks. 

Mateo presses their foreheads together, and Corpse squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can. He can’t stand to look him in the eye.

“Please, Corpse,” he whispers.

Corpse wants to say something, push him away, but  _ god _ he missed being held like this. Mateo leans in even closer. Corpse doesn’t try to move away. A breath ghosts over his skin. Their lips touch, just barely, as Mateo asks for permission.

And then Corpse closes the gap between them.

He breathes him in, pretending everything is alright. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt someone’s lips on his own. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt the swipe of a tongue on his own. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt loved.

Mateo’s fingers twist in Corpse’s hair, keeping him in place. Corpse hands rest at his waist almost naturally. 

It’s just the two of them, no one else. 

_ Right. No one else.  _ The voice in the back of his head taunts him.

  
  


Sykkuno can do nothing but watch in horror. His head spins, but his eyes stay locked on the sight in front of him.

Corpse eventually brings his hands up to Mateo’s chest, pushing him away, earning a look of confusion. Words are spoken here and there that Sykkuno can’t pick up.

_ “Who?”  _ Sykkuno reads Mateo’s lips. 

Mateo’s gaze shifts after Corpse answers. His eyes land on the car, on Sykkuno. He gives him a look of resignation and distances himself from Corpse even further.

Mateo’s expression is heartbreaking, to say the least. There’s a look in his eyes that Sykkuno can recognize from a mile away. 

One of anger, hurt, and scorn.

It’s like staring into a mirror.

Corpse turns around and almost runs down the steps, tripping over the last one. He doesn’t fall.

He gets back in the car, not even trying to look at Sykkuno. He can hear Corpse’s sniffles. He wipes his nose on his sleeve before putting his mask back on.

They drive towards Sykkuno’s place in silence.

“You two…” Sykkuno starts.

“We’re done.” Corpse’s voice wavers, “At least I am.” 

  
  


Sykkuno enters his empty apartment. It’s too quiet.

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” he pulls at his hair, before collapsing face-first into his mattress. His poor bed has been the victim of his tantrums recently.

He curses at himself for being the way he is. A jealous prick who finds an excuse to be upset over his best friend’s problems.

Corpse didn’t ask him to join to ask for his opinion. He didn’t ask him to comfort him with words or try to butt in with his comments.

He peels himself of the bed, wiping tears of his own onto his arm.

Sykkuno gets himself ready for bed knowing that Corpse is probably struggling to do the same. He wonders if he should shoot him a text, wishing him a good night.

_ Sykkuno is typing… _

_ goodnight co- _

He backspaces.

_ im here if you want to- _

He erases his message completely, turns off his lights, and closes his eyes.

Corpse struggles to see the road ahead of him. The tears flow freely down his cheeks, soaking the mask that hides his face.

He shouldn’t have gotten Sykkuno involved in this. He shouldn’t have let him in yesterday night, and he sure as hell shouldn’t have asked him to come along with him to see Mateo.

Mateo would’ve apologized the same exact way without Sykkuno in the car. He would’ve explained that he was just surprised to finally see Corpse’s face. It was nothing but a simple misunderstanding between the two. 

_ “Then why? Is there someone else?” _

Sykkuno can’t possibly be the reason for the way he’s feeling. He’s a friend, and friends have boundaries. Waking up beside him like that was way past all of them. He can still feel Sykkuno’s fingers running through his hair, calming him down. He remembers the warmth of his chest, the soothing heartbeat in his ears.

_ “Yes.” _

How is he supposed to care for someone else, when he can’t even care for himself?

How is supposed to get to know someone else when he doesn’t even know himself?

_ “Who?” _

Mateo pulled the truth out of him. Made him face the truth when he wanted to turn away.

_ “He- He came with me.” _

He’s always hurting the people around him. Mateo had never purposely wronged him. He didn’t ask for any of this. Mateo was only looking for someone to love. Just like he was. Mateo was always so confident in himself and who he was. He was someone Corpse wanted to be, more than he wanted to be with.

He arrives home, wondering how many more bottles of liquor he has left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before i named the guy mateo i was gonna name him kris and then i realized there's a streamer dude already named kris and that would've been awkward D:


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major trigger warning for this chapter! im editing the tags and warnings too
> 
> there's a lot into corpse's childhood and how he got his scar/broken nose. really bad nightmares
> 
> in summary  
> trigger warning: vomiting/childhood trauma/verbal and physical abuse/self harm/visions/speaking to hallucinations/blood mention/slight gore

Corpse gags into the toilet. He’s already flushed down the last of his puke, but the stench coming from his own mouth sends a new wave of nausea flooding over him. His throat burns, his eyes sting, his stomach aches. 

In his haze he can feel the cold glass of a wine bottle against his leg. A cold reminder of his current state. They keep him grounded at least.

_“Look at you.”_

A tall, dark figure stands in the doorway. Corpse tries to think back to the wine bottle beside his leg, it’s too dark to see, but he tries his best to tie himself back into reality.

_“A son like you isn’t worth shit, is he?”_

Corpse turns his face into a toilet again, trying to drown the voice out.

But he can’t. He’s never been able to. The shadow was always sitting in that same chair since he was a kid. It was always waiting for him to walk by to trip him, to slap him, to pinch him. He’s always kept his head down to the name calling, to the slurs, to everything. Corpse whimpers, feeling like he’s eight again.

The wine bottles are gone. He’s not in the bathroom anymore. He feels the coarse rug of his childhood bedroom, the smell of moisture. The dark figure has something in its hands.

_“Look at me.”_

Corpse doesn’t want to.

“ _Look at me when I’m talking to you.”_

Corpse listens this time, brain wired to follow commands from the shadow. He should’ve listened the first time.

He’s met with the sight of a beer bottle being hurled at him. There’s no time to dodge, to even react. It barely gets to gasp in shock before it smashes into the middle of his face. His head is thrown back from the impact. 

He brings a hand up to feel the damage. His hands are small, chubby, childlike. 

He wonders how much blood is dripping out of his nose, how many shards of glass are buried under his flesh. His head is spinning, his hand is trembling.

But there’s nothing. Just a crooked, broken nose that didn’t heal properly. And a scar running across his cheek that healed even worse.

The shadow is gone too, but Corpse knows it’ll be back. It always is.

_One… two… three._

Three bottles of wine, they haven’t gone anywhere. He’s back in the bathroom, never left.

Sykkuno doesn’t show up at his door that night. Corpse wishes he did, that in some alternate universe, he had the courage to talk to him. He wishes these feelings would all go away.

But Corpse can’t muster up the strength to call him. He doesn’t have the strength to ask for help. Corpse wonders what he’s doing wrong.

Maybe his father was right about everything.

  
  


“I know it’s bad.” Corpse moves to slip his mask back on, red in the face with shame. The two are a Sykkuno’s place for some reason, sitting on his living room couch.

“No!” Sykkuno’s voice rises uncharacteristically high. Corpse flinches.

“I mean- You look good, Corpse!” He smiles nervously. Corpse gives him a look of disbelief, but he pulls his mask back down. He runs a finger down the bridge of his nose, wondering if Sykkuno is just saying shit to be nice.

“Wow…” Sykkuno’s fingers twitch noticeably.

“Wow?”

“Yeah. Wow.” Sykkuno stares at him, captivated. 

Something about this is awfully familiar. An uneasy feeling settles in Corpse’s stomach.

“I think you’re pretty.” 

_This… This didn’t..._

“Really?”

_Something’s wrong._

“No.” Sykkuno scoffs. Corpse is taken aback. 

It starts out quiet, the laughter. Building up in Sykkuno’s chest like a volcano ready to erupt. And when it does, it comes out a disgusting cackle. Nails on a chalkboard, grating in Corpse’s ears. Sykkuno stands, looming over Corpse.

“What the actual fuck are you, Corpse?!” Sykkuno cries. He holds his aching stomach as he laughs, gasping for air weakly. He loses his balance, almost stumbling into Corpse, but he doesn’t stop laughing.

“W-What?”

The laughter is cold in Corpse’s ears. Sykkuno’s voice dries out, and every breath comes out a dry heave. It’s no longer Sykkuno staring back at him. Not Mateo, not his own father.

Sykkuno’s face twists grotesquely. A gash opens up at the side of his mouth, his nose snaps. There’s blood everywhere, the scent of copper floods Corpse’s senses. 

And then… and then he’s staring straight back at himself.

_“Do you really think you can find someone to love you with a face like that?”_

  
  


Corpse wakes up with a jolt, body covered in sweat. Sunlight comes in from the tiny, frosted window of the bathroom wall.

_One… two… three._

Three wine bottles. A cold bathroom floor. The smell of vomit.

He rests his head on the toilet seat and closes his eyes once more.

His nightmares are as confusing as they are terrifying. Faces morph into each other, wounds and slits open on soft skin, overlapping shouts and cries overwhelm him.

He’s in hell, and he’s on fire.

  
  


The shadow is back again, standing in the doorway the next time he opens his eyes.

It steps close this time, something that is usually followed by more berating.

Instead, it touches him. New hands shake him by the shoulders gently. He follows its gentle touches, letting himself be guided wherever it leads him. He's in the bathtub. He sits, shoulders hunched, he can’t understand what the shadow is trying to tell him.

Something about clothes, something about water, Corpse’s head aches.

It starts to lift the sweatshirt off his body. 

_Oh. It’s that kind of memory..._

“Stop.” is the only word he can find. He’s not sure if the shadow can understand him. He tries again and again, but his mouth doesn’t listen to him.

It already has his shirt above his ribcage. Corpse struggles to get on his feet and free himself from the shadow. He swipes the soap bottles off their shelf by accident, and they fall into the tub with a bang. He falls down with them, pain shooting up his tailbone. His eyes fly open.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he curls in on himself, hands covering the back of his head for protection. He’s trembling again. “Please stop.”

“Corpse?” The shadow speaks to him in a soft, warm voice, unlike any other. Corpse instantly feels himself gravitating towards it, his brain desperate to grasp onto the source. 

“It’s-It’s me. Toast.” He feels a palm rest on the back of his hand. “I wanted to get the water running for you. Should I wait outside?”

It takes a second for Corpse’s brain to switch gears. He remembers where he is, why he’s there, and who Toast is.

“Stay.” His voice comes out weak, vocal chords aching. There’s no time to be ashamed, he’s too scared right now. “I’ll clean myself up…”

He closes the shower curtain, taking off his filthy clothes and slipping them out from behind the curtain while sitting. He reaches for the shower handle, trying to ignore the soreness embedded in his muscles.

Cold water washes away his thoughts. The shock sends his nerves into a frenzy, distracting him from his surroundings until the scars trailing up and down his arms turn into red watercolor paints from art class, and the angry cigarette burns on his torso are bug bites from a day at the park.

Shampoo can wait, body wash can wait. He rinses his face.

He shuts the water off. He’s shivering.

“Can I go into your room? For clothes? A towel?” Toast asks.

“Just don’t look around too much.”

Toast gives him an ok, closing the door behind himself after leaving a towel and neatly folded clothes on the bathroom sink.

He tries not to look at himself while he slips on his clothes. He brushes his teeth, and checks his phone.

He narrows his eyes at his screen, there are messages from five days ago.

**Sykkuno:** hey :)

**Sykkuno:** morning

And then two days later.

**Sykkuno:** can i call you

**Sykkuno:** is everything okay? 

Another 2 days.

**Sykkuno:** corpse?

And then today.

**Sykkuno:** please answer

Fuck. 

“How long was I out?” he asks through the door. As expected, Toast is right outside.

“You tell me. Last time Sykkuno said he saw you was almost a week ago.”

Corpse opens the door, stepping out. Toast looks down at the floor, avoiding his maskless face.

“Uhm, should I...” Toast scratches the back of his head.

“You’ve already seen enough, haven’t you?”

Corpse sips his coffee regretfully. It should help with his hangover, but he’ll definitely be feeling worse later.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” Toast proposes before adding, “No one’s home.” 

Corpse can’t trust himself to stay home alone. He agrees.

Not a word is spoken until they park Toast’s car at the house he shares with his friends. Corpse brings his mask below his chin, and sucks in a deep breath.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Helping me.”

Toast sighs, looking down at his lap.

“Do I need a reason?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading up to this point! it turn a darker turn than i thought it would
> 
> leave some comments or slap a kudos somewhere


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like i was gone for ages!! Shit really hit the fan. I actually have been writing a LOT! but I went through a cycle of writing and then hating everything and them being afraid to post and then afraid to reply to any comments. To everyone who commented on this and on my other fics, I want to thank you so so much for taking time to write nice things under my works. I read every single one of them like 3 times every day and although my responses can be really repetitive and generic its only because im really bad with taking compliments and criticisms. Thank you so so much.
> 
> i hope this chapter can make up for being gone for almost 2 months.

“How did you even get into my apartment?” Corpse questions as he slurps down the last of his lukewarm coffee. He holds the empty cup in his hands as he sits on Toast’s sofa.

“I learned to pick locks in high school.” Toast gives him a cheeky smile, earning a suspicious look from Corpse. He hands him a hot bowl of pasta, microwaved leftovers from last night, and settles down next to him. 

Toast didn’t think he’d have to go as far as breaking and entering in order to get to Corpse, but he’s glad he did.

Corpse shoves a forkful into his mouth, scarfing down as much as he can at once. He’s most likely gone days without food and his stomach growls as he swallows.

“Can I ask what happened?” Toast can see the look in his eyes. They don’t focus on anything around the house’s living room. He’s had his coffee, some food, and a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but his eyes are still tired, empty shells of exhaustion. 

He looks so lost.

He remembers the way Corpse cowered away from his touch, falling into the fetal position, arms crossed protectively over the back of his head and neck. Toast remembers reading a survival handbook before his first camping trip as a kid. The pose is most efficient for protecting yourself from animal attacks. It protects the vital organs, the back of the head too. It reduces the chance of internal bleeding, bruising, and death.

Something tells him that animals aren’t what Corpse had to defend himself from. The human kind of animals, maybe. He was trembling long after he got out of the shower.

“It just happens, I guess.” He wraps the blanket around his head, damp curls pressed against his forehead. “I have a bad day, one thing leads to another… next thing I know I’m on the floor and I start seeing _things_.” he waves his fingers around like his hallucinations were some kind of magic spell cast upon him.

“They’re all memories. Trauma finds its way back into my life no matter how many years pass by.” Corpse lifts his legs onto the couch, crossing them under him.

Toast feels his mouth go dry. He can’t even begin to imagine what Corpse was thinking when he saw Toast standing over him. He hadn’t even bothered to make sure that Corpse was fully conscious before approaching him. Toast wonders what he saw when he was touching him, coaxing him into the bathtub, trying to take his clothes off. A knot builds in his throat and his stomach tightens.

“I’m sorry.” is all he can manage. Corpse seems to understand this.

“Don’t worry too much. You’re not the first one to find me like that.”

“Was it Sykkuno?”

Corpse reacts to the sound of his name, body going rigid. His hands clench around the blanket. Toast gives him a questioning look.

“Can we not?” Corpse takes a breath, “Can we not talk about him?”

“Did he do something?” Toast’s eyes narrow.

“No.” Corpse says firmly. “ Last night, he was in one of my _visions_. If you want to call them that.”

Toast chooses not to ask about the visions. He knows his place as a friend, as someone who is ignorant to the workings of Corpse’s mind. The last thing he wants to do is agitate him.

They continue in awkward silence. The television stays off for the sake of both of their headaches, but the scrape of Corpse’s fork against the glass bowl has their eyes twitching.

  
  


“Thank you.” Corpse mumbles under his breath, staring down at the empty bowl in his lap.

Toast takes the empty bowl from Corpse and brings it to the sink in the kitchen. He fills it with water, leaving it to soak and for someone else to wash. He returns to the living room, finding Corpse in the same position, lost in thought, except he’s hugging a throw pillow against his chest.

As he steps closer, though, Corpse hides his face into the pillow. He hides from Toast.

“Are you…”

Toast was about to ask if he wanted to lie down to sleep but he hears Corpse suck in a deep breath, releasing it slow, and dangerously strained. He does it again and again until Toast recognizes it as a breathing exercise. It isn’t working. 

Corpse exhales shakily once and the rhythm is ruined.

It’s not long before Corpse is openly sobbing into his hands. Toast’s heart sinks, hearing the near-wailing of one of his closest friends. Corpse sounds like he’s crying out for someone, or something. With every gasp of air Corpse takes in, Toast feels his own air being sucked out of his body, leaving him in a lightheaded panic. Toast can’t make out the words Corpse is trying to say. 

Only two words make sense to him, and they repeat over and over again. Toast’s heart shatters.

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”_

Corpse can’t seem to compose himself no matter how hard he tries to stiffen his shaking body. Toast crouches down to meet Corpse at eye-level. He leans forward, pressing a delicate touch to his shoulder, doing his best to avoid scaring him again.

“We’re here for you, Corpse. No matter what.” Toast has to pause so his voice doesn’t end up cracking. “I don’t know what or who you saw back in that bathroom, but they can’t get to you anymore.”

Corpse doesn’t answer for a good while, understandably, but when Corpse pulls Toast in without warning, wrapping his arms around Toast, causing a little sound of surprise to escape his lips, Toast almost breaks out into tears of his own. 

Corpse holds him tight as he continues to cry, large hands pawing at the back of his shirt. Toast doesn’t hesitate this time. He embraces Corpse with equal strength. He rubs circles into his back, listening for Corpse’s breathing to even out.

“You can stay the night. I’ll get the guest room set up if you need me to.” he whispers into his ear. Corpse nods his head.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“It’s nothing.”

  
  


The air is a lot lighter after that. The silence is as welcoming as Corpse’s touch. Toast never took him for a touchy person. It was little things, nothing excessive. Corpse sat right beside him despite having all the space in the world to spread himself out. Toast didn’t mind their knees touching, he didn’t mind the weight of a head on his shoulders either. He allowed himself to feel vulnerable so that Corpse didn’t have to be the only one that did.

Corpse ends up with his head on Toast’s thighs, either staring into space or resting. Toast can’t tell. He’s surprised at his own tiredness, closing his heavy eyelids. He doesn’t sleep though, hyperaware of the man on top of him, on alert for any sign of discomfort from him.

  
  


Corpse speaks up after a while, just as Toast was about let himself slip into unconsciousness.

“Toast?” he gets his attention. “Can I tell you something?”

Toast mumbles something along the lines of an agreement, giving Corpse his full attention.

“I like men.“ Corpse exhales, never looking up at Toast directly.

He chooses his next words carefully. Not wanting to say too much or too little.

“That’s fucking awesome.” Toast keeps his tone lighthearted, telling himself not to make it a bigger deal for Corpse than it already is. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud. I never felt safe enough to.” he adds, “It’s part of the reason I had such a tough time as a kid. Other things too, obviously, but I thought you should have some idea as to why I’m like this.” Corpse stiffens, alarms go blaring in Toast’s mind as Corpse continues. “My dad wasn’t- he wasn’t a good person. He suspected and-” Corpse sits up suddenly, fiddling with his fingers nervously, going silent.

“No one from our circle knows?” Toast suddenly asks, hoping to take Corpse’s mind off the past and into the present as stupid as the question is.

“Sykkuno does. I was drunk and I don’t remember how he found out.” 

“And how did that go?” 

“We ended up in bed.”

Toast chokes on his spit. He turns his head aside so he won’t end up coughing on his friend.

“Not like that.” Corpse brings the blanket over his shoulders. It’s entirely over his head by the time Toast can take a proper breath of air.

“We cuddled, and it was weird.” he admits. 

“Weird, huh?”

Corpse finally turns to face Toast, mouth curved downwards into a pout, cheeks slightly blushed “I said I don’t remember much of it.”

Toast lets himself laugh at that, but mostly he laughs at the odd turn that their relationship has taken.

Toast made Corpse feel safe. He made him feel… safe? A surge of emotions floods through Toast’s chest. They’re warm, annoyingly soft, and too goddamn intimate.

So this is what it’s like to be trusted wholeheartedly? This is what it’s like to want to protect someone from any kind of harm? Was Corpse a friend to him? A best friend maybe? No. He was family, a bother to him.

A little one, that is.

“You’re not mad right?” Corpse looks up at him, eyes begging for a response.

“Of course not.” Toast ruffles his hair, and Corpse resumes his position with his head in Toast’s lap.

  
  


The sun sets, its orange hues paint Toast’s skin a light soft pink.

Toast eventually stands up, and Corpse’s head is left with no support. He’s half aware of his surroundings in his uncomfortable position. He hears someone come home and Toast ushers them upstairs as quickly as possible. A second person arrives home as well. Lily. He recognizes her voice. She doesn’t need the full explanation to go upstairs on her own either.

Toast’s phone rings. Corpse can’t help but eavesdrop. 

_“No you can’t come and see him, Sykkuno. He needs to rest.”_

Toast sounds worried.

_“But nothing!”_

Exasperated.

_“I’ll ask him, but don’t do anything unless I text you.”_

Defeated.

Corpse pretends to be sound asleep when he hears footsteps heading his way. Toast nudges him until his eyes open.

“It’s getting late. Do you want to head upstairs?” Corpse nods, not having the energy to ask about his phone call. 

“Get some rest.” Toast hands him a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. “I’m right down the hall if you need anything."

“Goodnight.”

"Goodnight"

Having a good night is easier said than done. Corpse’s head is still a jumbled mess of thoughts and ideas. Toast was his anchor, keeping him from drifting away as he’s lost at sea, giving him time to orient himself in the proper direction. The bed he's in now is too cold, too big. He's drowning in it.

He wonders why Toast didn't ask him about seeing Sykkuno. Maybe it was for his own good. He can't close his eyes without seeing the horrifying image of Sykkuno that he saw when he was on the bathroom floor. He keeps his eyes open until they burn. Until he can't think of anything other than his own exhaustion and his body takes over. It's almost liberating when his body shuts down, taking his mind with it, and he can finally sleep.

It doesn't last very long. He wakes up to the buzz of his phone. Mulitple. He forgot he had it on him.

**Sykkuno:** hi

**Sykkuno:** I needed to clear my head so i went for a drive i dont know why i ended up here

**Sykkuno:** toast said to let you rest i should go back home right?

**Sykkuno:** its getting really cold i think your neighbors think im a creep

Corpse throws the blankets off of his body, seeing nothing but darkness at the corners of his vision as he flies downstairs to the front door. He opens it, having forgotten that Toast was the one who drove him here.

“Shit.” he swears under his breath.

Sykkuno is waiting for him at his doorstep. Sykkuno is at his door and Corpse is not home.

He runs back upstairs as best he can without making too much noise, and enters Toast’s room.

“Toast.” Corpse’s voice barely reaches a whisper, coming out as a horse breath of air, giving him a shake. He doesn’t budge.

“Toast.” He tries louder this time. Toast rolls over with an annoyed groan.

“Drive me home. I-I have to go home.”

“Fuck, what time is it?” Toast picks his phone up from the nightstand. His eyes squint at the brightness. 

“I need to go.” Corpse wraps a hand around Toast’s wrist, tugging him from under his covers. Toast, half-awake, wearing boxers only, doesn’t resist. 

“Where are we going?” he asks sleepily.

Corpse wants to shout at him to hurry. The rest of the house is still sleeping, though.

Toast manages to put some clothes on, after several minutes of trying to understand what Corpse was trying to tell him.

They’re back in the car, it’s all too familiar.

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not.” Corpse hunches over in his seat, willing his morning nausea away, “Drive, please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't make any promises to be consistent with my updates but thank you for any comments and kudos


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